A broad, white road; on either hand some half-dozen cottages with
roofs of thatch or red tile, backed by trees gnarled and ancient,
among which rises the red conical roof of some oast-house. Such,
in a word, is Sissinghurst.
Now, upon the left-hand side of the way, there stands a square,
comfortable, whitewashed building, peaked of roof, bright as to
windows, and with a mighty sign before the door, whereon you shall
behold the picture of a bull: a bull rolling of eye, astonishingly
curly of horn and stiff as to tail, and with a prodigious girth
of neck and shoulder; such a snorting, fiery-eyed, curly-horned
bull as was never seen off an inn-sign.
It was at this bull that I was staring with much apparent
interest, though indeed, had that same curly-horned monstrosity
been changed by some enchanter's wand into a green dragon or
griffin, or swan with two necks, the chances are that I should
have continued sublimely unconscious of the transformation.
Yet how should honest Silas Hoskins, ostler, and general factotum
of "The Bull" inn, be aware of this fact, who, being thus early
at work, and seeing me lost in contemplation, paused to address
me in all good faith?
"A fine bull 'e be, eh, Peter? Look at them 'orns, an' that
theer tail; it's seldom as you sees 'orns or a tail the like o'
them, eh?"
"Very seldom!" I answered, and sighed.
"An' then--'is nose-'oles, Peter, jest cast your eye on them
nose'oles, will ye; why, dang me! if I can't 'ear 'im a-snortin'
when I looks at 'em! An' 'e were all painted by a chap--a little
old chap wi' gray whiskers--no taller 'n your elber, Peter!
Think o' that--a little chap no taller 'n your elber! I seen 'im
do it wi' my two eyes--a-sittin' on a box. Drored t' bull in
wi' a bit o' chalk, first; then 'e outs wi' a couple o' brushes;
dab 'e goes, an' dab, dab again, an'--by Goles! theer was a pair
o' eyes a-rollin' theirselves at me--just a pair o' eyes, Peter.
Ah! 'e were a wonder were that little old chap wi' gray whiskers!
The way 'e went at that theer bull, a-dabbin' at 'im 'ere, an'
a-dabbin' at 'im theer till 'e come to 'is tail--'e done 'is tail
last of all, Peter. 'Give un a good tail!' says I. 'Ah! that I
will,' says 'e. 'An' a good stiff un!' says I. 'Ye jest keep
your eye on it, an' watch!' says 'e. Talk about tails, Peter!
'E put in that theer tail so quick as nigh made my eyes water,
an'--as for stiffness--well, look at it! I tell 'ee that chap
could paint a bull wi' 'is eyes shut, ah, that 'e could! an' 'im
such a very small man wi' gray whiskers. No, ye don't see many
bulls like that un theer, I'm thinkin', Peter?"